


Open Court

by Omnibard



Series: We've Not Yet Lost All Our Graces [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Gen, One-Shots, Spoilers, requests from tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-22 08:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17659256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnibard/pseuds/Omnibard
Summary: This is a collection of requests and one-shots for "We've Not Yet Lost All Our Graces"SPOILERS ABOUND, YE BE WARNED!





	1. Fic Prompt: "The Lion-queen of Lucis: Scene: The first time Prince Noctis gets to hug the queen mother."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prowlingthunder asked:  
> Fic Prompt: "The Lion-queen of Lucis  
> Scene: The first time Prince Noctis gets to hug the queen mother."

Noctis didn’t want to hold the hands of his mom or his Dad in the hospital hallway.  He’d never visited a hospital before, and it was an overwhelming kind of place, the air heavy with anxiety, sadness, and pain, but he still wanted to prove he was a big boy.

It didn’t stop him from grabbing Ignis’s hand when a rushing nurse had almost crashed right into the Crownsguard flanking him.

The Crownsguard who _wasn’t_ Cor.  Noctis’s mom had told him that Cor was waiting for them in his Mom’s room, making sure everything was secure for the royal family’s visit, and that the Queen of Lucis was protected.

Ignis—whose hand the Prince reluctantly released again after a few steps—had told him, yesterday, that the reason the Queen was in the hospital instead of the Citadel infirmary, was because she needed a special surgery, and the very _best_ surgeon for the job worked at this hospital, and it was better to bring her _here_ instead of bringing _him_ there.  Noctis didn’t really understand, but Ignis was probably right.  Ignis was usually right about everything—which was annoying sometimes.

There was a crowd of men and women with cameras and microphones—the news people—waiting outside the door ahead, and Noctis’s Dad reached down, taking hold of his hand. He fidgeted a little, but the King was holding his hand _that way_ , the way that kept him firmly caught and meant he had to stay close and behave himself for _safety_. His Dad often did this around the news people.  Ignis had told him, when he’d asked, that the King probably wanted to make sure nobody in the crowd tried to _snatch him_ away.  Ignis was holding Noctis’s mom’s hand, and looked uncomfortable doing it like he always did, but Noctis figured she made him do it in case somebody wanted to snatch _him_ away.  Ignis could be annoying sometimes, but Noctis wouldn’t like it if he were taken away.

Stepping inside the room, the Prince’s first realization was that all these news people were going to come _with them_ , all crowded in the room that looked way too small for all of them.  The second thing he noticed was Cor, leaning away from the wall and unfolding his hands, seeming to _appear_ out of thin air—That was one of the best things about Cor, Noctis thought, how he could stand in a room without anybody knowing one second, and the _next second,_ without even moving much, he could be towering over everybody and they all scrambled to do what he said. It was fun to watch.—to look tall, dark, and _threatening_.  The news people quieted down a little and backed away a step, letting Noctis and his Dad and mom and Ignis through without any pushing. The third thing, he noticed, was the big bed on wheels where his Mom lay, the part where her head and shoulders rested slightly tilted up.

The Queen’s face was still really pretty, even though it was pale and her dark eyes sunken.  Noctis instantly felt terrible, and a little scared. It was a different kind of terrible and scared, though, than when he was around his Mom.  Usually, when he had to be with his Mom, it was because they were in front of people, and he had to pretend she was like his mom and ignore his mom until they weren’t in front of people.  When they weren’t in front of people, he could treat his mom like his mom, but he had to stay away from his Mom.  Nobody could give him a good answer why, but it’d been like this since he’d been born.  People kept saying his Mom didn’t like him, didn’t like kids at all, but she was always so nice to him and Ignis and Gladiolus and Iris and Luna and Ravus (though Ravus was a Teenager now, so maybe he didn’t count anymore?) whenever she was around them, whether in front of people or not.  Noctis wondered if people told her to be nice to them just like they told him how to act.  But people kept _saying_ she didn’t like him, and that she might do mean things, so he usually didn’t like being around her, because he didn’t want to get in trouble, and he didn’t want her to do mean things to him.

But then the _bad people_ had come into the Citadel and killed the Crownsguards protecting them, and his Dad, and Gladiolus’s dad, and Ravus and Luna’s mom, and Cor had all been somewhere else.  That was when his Mom had told them to run, had told his mom to take him, and Lady Amicitia, and all the kids to the servant’s passage that led into her rooms and to knock over the vase of yellow flowers on the side table.  Then she’d turned and faced the _bad people_ to keep them from chasing after them.  She’d stayed behind to protect them.  Noctis didn’t need Ignis or Gladio to tell him that that was what she was doing, or that she might die like the Crownsguards had because she did it.

Just like Ravus might have died when one of the _bad people_ had come from somewhere behind them and cut off his arm when he tried to protect them.  But Cor had come just then, and killed the _bad guy_ and had helped Ravus to stop the bleeding.  He was in the hospital too, though, and nobody knew yet if he’d get his arm back.

Noctis had thought a long time, after that, about his Mom.  He thought about her standing there, beautiful and very brave, with no weapons at all, her back to him as he was led away by his mom.  He thought about how for once she didn’t look so _sad._

That was the thing. Noctis’s Mom, the Queen, was always smiling, but to Noctis (and Ignis—Ignis had noticed first.  He noticed _everything_ first…) she always seemed so _sad._ She looked sad _now_ , too.  But she smiled, because the news people were here, and his Dad was here, and she always smiled like that to the news people and to Dad and to everybody.

“My King,” She said weakly, “please forgive me for not standing.  It must have been a chore to leave the Citadel in disarray to come and visit me…”

His Dad laughed quietly, and to the prince it sounded a little bit like he might cry, “… My brave Queen, I would have left it in _rubble_ to see you well.”

He stepped over to the bed, bringing Noctis with him, and bent over her, leaning heavily on his cane, and released the prince to take up her frail-looking hand and kiss it gently. His Dad only ever kissed his Mom’s hand, and only in front of other people, but he kissed his mom a lot. Sometimes all over her face. Sometimes for a long time on the lips. Still, Noctis thought there was something different about his Dad this time.  Something very serious and maybe a little sad.  Glancing at Ignis, he thought the boy with the sharp eyes behind glasses noticed too.

But then his Dad was picking him up and settling him on the bed next to his Mom.  “Your son has been very worried about you.”

The camera people were taking pictures, and the ones with microphones were talking urgently but in low enough voices so that Cor didn’t glare at them.  They took more photos when he was put on the bed.  Looking down at her, seeing her look so sad and far away behind that smile she seemed to have only a tiny bit of strength to wear, Noctis suddenly thought _he_ might cry.

Was she always so sad because of _him_?  Did _he_ make her sad?

“Has he?” She asked his Dad before looking at him, voice soft and so kind, like always, “I’m so sorry to worry you, Noctis.  I’m so sorry about all of this.  I’m just happy you are safe.”

He almost forgot to be careful.  Someone had told him—Cor or his mom or maybe Ignis?  Maybe all three, he didn’t really remember now.—that the _bad people_ had stabbed his Mom and that was why she needed the special surgery she could only get in the hospital.  He almost forgot to be careful when he slumped down onto her and hugged her tight.

Noctis had hugged his Mom a lot of times.  Lots and lots of times, almost always in front of the news people because somebody had said he should.  It was usually just a little hug, and it always felt strange, and wrong, and he didn’t like it.  The Queen’s hugs were warm, and nice, but they kept telling him he had to stay away from her the rest of the time, so he was always scared she would do something mean. This time, though, Noctis hugged her tight, without being told, pressing his face against her chest, trying not to cry. This time he didn’t _believe them_ that she would do mean things.  His Mom never did mean things.

He felt her move carefully to hug him back, and it was warm and nice, but she was weak.  His Dad ran his thick fingers through his hair and then rubbed his back.  Then the King stepped away.  He spoke to the news people, and then he told them to leave the room.

He went after them. Cor moved to go too, but Noctis heard his Dad tell him to stay.  Lord Amicitia was out in the hall already, so he would be safe.  He was going to go visit Ravus and Queen Sylva now.

Noctis didn’t know why his Mom started crying.  His mom cried too, because she usually cried when somebody else started.  He was scared, and started to pull away because he thought he’d hurt her—squeezed too tight—but she stroked his hair and kissed him on the forehead and told him it was all right, so he snuggled down into her again.

His mom came and kissed the Queen on the temple, telling her how glad she was the surgery had went well, and that she was all right.  Ignis stood next to her, staring at his Mom’s face.

“Do you want up there, Ignis?” His mom asked, wiping her tears neatly.  “Is it all right, my Queen?”

“I… I don’t want to disturb her Majesty…”

The Queen smiled, and it was so beautiful because she wasn’t _sad_ behind it, even though she was crying, “It’s all right.  You can if you want.”

Moving very carefully, Ignis was tall enough to climb up on his own, but he did not lie down with her. Instead he held her hand with both of his and said, “… Your Majesty, you _love_ children.  You were going to die for all of us.”

Across the room, Cor made a strange sound in his throat, and everyone remembered that he was still there.

Looking back at Ignis, Noctis’s Mom said, “My duty and my heart bade me, Ignis.  I had little choice in the matter.”

Ignis nodded, as if he understood this in a very grown-up way, “… Why does everyone say that you don’t like children, then?”

“Because _sometimes_ , Ignis,” She said carefully, squeezing his hands in one of hers and stroking Noctis’s hair so nicely with the other while he refused to let go, hearing her heartbeat under his cheek, “it is better to let people tell stories that aren’t true, than to correct them and put you and Noctis in danger.”

“… I don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand, either.” Noctis said quietly.

“It’s all right,” The Queen said, “you don’t have to understand now.  It’s a very confusing thing.  But maybe we can stop pretending now.”

Ignis adjusted his glasses, “… That would be nice.”

“It would.” Then she tugged him down, and he laid down on her other side, resting his head on her shoulder.  Noctis remembered all the times Ignis had quietly mentioned how the King and Queen were a little bit like _his_ parents now, too.  He was glad that his friend got to hug his other Mom at last.


	2. ONE-SHOT: 'Yours'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Mandakatt: "Person A giving Person B a sealed envelope that says “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL YOU’RE HAVING A BAD DAY.” Years later at the end of a long and hard day Person B finally decides to open it."
> 
> (This is an AU of the AU! I was inspired to write some ultra-sad, that's all!)

The ticking of the clock was unbearable. The sunlight through the Citadel windows a physical weight crushing him. His bones would not settle properly in the familiar chair, and he kept shifting like the faux leather was made of broken shards of glass grinding against his skin through his clothes.

They were yesterday’s clothes, which were the same clothes as the day before—when was the last time he went home? Maybe it was the same night he last slept. Probably around the same time he could keep a meal down.  Fortunately, he had toiletry necessities here in his desk—so he could brush his teeth, wash his face, and shave. There was always plenty to do, and little reason to leave.

Little excuse for it, too.

But now he could do nothing. There was a chasm leagues wide between his hand and the pen on the desk, and even if he could reach it, it weighed tons he couldn’t lift. The stack of folders demanded his attention, but the only thing that pulled his attention from the depths in that chasm between himself and the work he needed to do was the sight of the boys on his office couch.

Noctis and Ignis had found him in the hallway earlier this morning. The young Prince had taken one look at his face and then _ran over_ , throwing his arms around his legs and bawling. Even no-nonsense Ignis had looked just shy of tears himself, and he struggled to keep a stiff upper lip. When he’d picked up the Prince, Noctis had clung to his neck fit to strangle him, so Cor couldn’t pass him off to anyone else. He didn’t want to leave him. Ignis had come and shyly taken his other hand.

 _‘We miss her too.’_ was all he said.

 _‘They’ve forgotten her but I don’t want to forget!’_ Noctis had sobbed into his collar. Cor had tried to say something appropriate—about how they hadn’t forgotten the late Queen of Lucis, and were in fact, busy trying to plan an appropriate funeral while also running a kingdom still at war—but his words had sounded hollow to his own ears, so he’d stopped trying to say anything. Instead he brought them here. He couldn’t think of another place to go.

Gladiolus had come later and found his young charge wrapped up in one of the late-Queen’s shawls—the one she’d left here once, and he’d kept in his closet for reasons he couldn’t determine—clutching an earring she’d lost that he’d kept safe for her in his desk drawer and had forgotten about until…

… until just a few days ago… when it was too late…

Noctis still didn’t want to leave. He was sad and angry at everyone else in the entire world, he said. So Gladiolus had stayed and given Cor too many concerned glances, until his own emotional and physical exhaustion dragged him into sleep.

A small sound drew Cor’s attention, slowly, and he saw that the Prince had dropped the stray earring in his sleep. The pen was a lifetime away, but he found the strength to fetch the earring.

It had been forgotten in his desk drawer… what else had he hidden away from prying eyes, there?

A sudden, feverish curiosity took him back to the chair and his hands trembled as he fumbled with the drawers. There, in the top one, tucked far in the back was a small piece of delicate stationary from her desk, folded in half. The edges seemed tatted, though he knew they’d been cut with a razorblade by a very dedicated craftsman back in Altissia who’d been commissioned to fashion this exact pattern for Her Majesty’s letter writing and personal musings.

_‘This is for you’ she’d said with something sly in her usual cool and distant smile, ‘but not for now. Put it away. Read it when you have need of it.’_

_‘How will I know I need it?’_

_‘You won’t have that question when you do.’_

He probably needed it now. Like food. Like sleep.

They’d told him these things… _Regis and Clarus_ had told him these things… and now…

… They said they were sending someone to take him home, now. So he would eat and sleep.

They were worried about him. He needed to take better care of himself. He probably needed whatever was in that letter now. But mostly… he was quite sure he just needed _her_ again.

But he’d squandered her. He’d loved her for so long, from so far away, and even when he was finally permitted to have her near… He’d held back. Out of fear, maybe. Or pride. Or shame. Some misplaced concept of ‘duty’. He’d owed her everything and she’d never demanded it of him. She only asked what he offered. He only offered what he was prepared to risk...

Now it was too late, and he saw the injustice sneering up at him from the chasm…

He didn’t deserve whatever comfort she had left for him.

His deadened fingers toyed with the edges, and a faint curl of her perfume flickered up from the paper. Immediately his stomach clenched and his chest seized, and he was filled to bursting with pain and longing.

He’d all but put her in the grave himself. Her safety had been his duty. She should have been able to rely on him.

But that was always the thing, wasn’t it? He’d always only let her down when it mattered most, and she always suffered for it.

Well… Perhaps she suffered no more. Now she was beyond his fumblings.

One-handed, breath stilled and burning in his chest, he opened the folded paper, listening to it creak like an ancient door. Her fine, elegantly looping script stretched across the unadorned middle of the page.

_Ever have you inspired only the best in me. I have seen the dark in you, and I have seen you stand ever-vigilant before it, to bar its way. I can do no less with such an example to follow._

_Yours,_

_\- A_

His lungs burned, his throat burned. His eyes and nose stung.

_Yours._

She’d never once signed her letters this way. ‘With Regards’ for business, usually, ‘Affectionately’ for personal discourse. Not even notes for her husband, the King, were ended in such away.

 _‘Yours’._ His.

She’d been his. And he’d missed his chance to be hers.

If his Crownsguard escorts noticed his red-rimmed eyes, they said nothing about it.


End file.
